


Following Orders

by Sineala



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Authority Figures, Community: st_xi_kink, Kink Meme, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-11
Updated: 2009-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:19:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not calling you 'sir.' I outrank you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Following Orders

**Author's Note:**

> A PWP. Written for the Star Trek XI kink meme: _Chekov/Sulu, on the bridge, in the center seat. Bonus points for inexperience, being-the-captain as a kink, and voyeur!Spock._

It was the middle of delta shift, and Sulu was bored. The Enterprise's night watch was never very active at the best of times, but tonight it was just him and Pavel and the quiet beeping of the science stations.

"You have the conn, Mr. Chekov," Spock had said, on his way to the lift. That calm, measured Vulcan voice, as always. As if it were exactly the sort of order he usually gave to an ensign. Nice of him to give the kid some practice.

And Chekov, may the Great Bird bless him, had bounced up to the center seat as if he had had to race the rest of the ship to get there. "Aye, commander!" he had practically chirped before the lift doors closed.

That was four hours ago, and Chekov's enthusiasm showed no signs of abating.

"Report," Chekov burbled happily, and when Sulu looked back at him he had his leg draped over the chair's arm, next to the controls, foot swinging back and forth in the air. At least someone was enjoying his command, Sulu thought, and couldn't help but smile. It was better than glaring daggers at him.

"Still on course for the Iota Geminorum system," he said, not even bothering to check his board again. "At Warp 5, our ETA is approximately five days."

"Approximately?"

He sighed and turned back. "Five days, twenty hours, and thirteen minutes."

Leaning his head back across the other arm, Chekov raised an eyebrow. "Thirteen minutes...?" His voice trailed off, a familiar question from superior officers. Which he wasn't.

That did it. Sulu turned in his seat and gave Chekov an incredulous stare. "I'm not calling you 'sir'. I outrank you." That was it, hide behind indignation. He shouldn't be looking at the way Chekov's body flexed in the chair as he swung his legs, the way he slid.

Chekov practically pouted. "Very well."

Sulu turned back and pointedly fixed his attention on his board, only to be interrupted by a dreamy, almost hesitant voice. "You could pretend?"

He didn't look up. "Hmm?"

"Captain Chekov," he mused. "That's me." There was a note in his voice Sulu didn't quite know what to make of. Ambition, perhaps. Control. All right, he'd go along with it.

"Your orders, sir?" Sulu said, half-turning, and then he saw the look on Chekov's face and stopped dead.

Chekov's eyes were fixed on him, tracking Sulu -- just like Sulu had been looking at him. He wore a lazy, confident smile, for all that his eyes were a little wider than Sulu expected. _He's scared_, Sulu thought. _But he knows what he wants. Me._

"Why don't you come up here, lieutenant?" Chekov purred, and even his accent was sexy. Dammit. "And kiss me."

His legs shook. He didn't know what he was doing. And from the quaver in Chekov's voice, _he_ didn't know either. But Sulu's body knew; a rush of heat swept through him. He was standing up. What the hell was he doing? He was walking to the chair. He was--

Chekov's hand grabbed a fistful of his uniform and pulled. Sulu went over, stretched atop Chekov, body warm, hot, beneath him. The chair was awkward with the two of them in it, and Chekov being all gawky knees and elbows hardly helped. He hoped like hell he hadn't kicked the allcall button on his way down, because if there was ever anything the rest of the ship didn't need to hear, it was this.

Chekov's grip finally relaxed, and his hand lifted, wrapped around the back of Sulu's neck. Chekov was in command here, all right. Sulu focused his eyes, slowly, on Chekov's lips. They were trembling.

"Kiss me, Lieutenant Sulu," Chekov repeated, and his voice was taut with tension. _Has he ever kissed anyone before?_ Sulu wondered. _Not like I have a lot of experience either, but.._

"Aye, sir," he whispered. Chekov smiled.

It was definitely the worst first kiss he'd ever had, in terms of technique. Their noses bumped. Chekov bit his lip hard and proceeded to put his tongue rather heavily in Sulu's mouth. But it was _hot_. There was something to be said for instinct. Well, as long as they both pretended like they knew what they were doing. So far it was easier than learning to fence, and in an odd way, similar. En garde. _Thrust, parry, ah, there..._

Chekov whimpered underneath him, sliding and wriggling, eventually managing to arch up against him, rubbing his cock against Sulu's hip. So hard already. He could probably come if you breathed on him, Sulu thought.

They broke the kiss, both panting. Chekov's eyes were wide and dark, unfocused, and he was breathing in time to the thrusts, every one a little faster. His mouth was moving, syllables and half-words in Russian, that the translator refused to render. The meaning was clear enough.

"Your orders now, sir?" Sulu said, and he couldn't help but smirk a little as he watched Chekov struggle to understand him.

An almost beatific smile. "Use your best judgment, lieutenant."

"Understood."

He braced his weight on the back of his chair, and with his free arm, worked a hand between them, unfastening Chekov's pants. Perfect. His cock was warm and solid in his hand. Almost like touching himself. Sulu gave an experimental stroke, and Chekov gasped and twisted under him, saying something else he couldn't understand.

He stroked him again, and again, trying to set up a rhythm to the pounding of his pulse in his ears. He wasn't doing too badly. He could do this. With the last squeeze, Chekov moaned and dug his fingers into his back, painfully hard, and then he was coming in his hand, shaking and groaning. Strange, but hot.

Chekov pulled him closer, covering his face with sloppy, grateful kisses. Sulu felt his chest lighten in ridiculous pleasure.

"Did I do well, sir?" he whispered.

"Very well," Chekov assured him, and the consonants made him chuckle a little in happiness. "I believe I will commend you," he added, kissing him again.

"I would be grateful, sir." What was he doing? He didn't have to--

Chekov pushed at him, and they slid along the chair. His perception was reduced to the feel of warmth against him, until somehow he was seated in the captain's chair and Chekov was kneeling between his legs, looking up at him. The kid's brows were furrowed in determination even as his hands were shaking, Sulu noted, as Chekov leaned forward with the kind of concentration usually displayed for particularly tricky transporter locks, and--

Oh. Mmm. Chekov's mouth on him was warm, and wet, and maybe he didn't really know what he was doing, clumsy and occasionally scraping his teeth, but the kid had talent. He felt the light touch of Chekov's hand, sliding into his pants, circling his cock.

"Oh, fuck, _Pavel_!"

The warmth lifted, dissipated, as Chekov moved off him, and Sulu opened his eyes to see Chekov smiling. "That's 'captain' to you."

Sulu pushed his hips up. "Terribly sorry. 'Keptin.'"

"Don't mock me, Hikaru," Chekov warned, laughing, and leaned forward again.

He was clearly getting the hang of it now, moving his hand in time to the rhythm of his mouth, creating a delicious friction. Tighter, tighter, faster, and then exactly there, yes--

Chekov made an undignified sort of spluttering sound as he swallowed; Sulu was dimly aware of him making a disgusted face and wiping his mouth off on his hand, as Sulu leaned back, breathing hard, and waited for reality to reassemble itself.

"Come here," Sulu said, and pulled Chekov up to kiss him. As he rose, Chekov looked over and down, and froze.

"Oh, no."

"What?" he asked, and then saw what Chekov was staring at. The comm console on the chair's arm. He couldn't make the readout make sense. "Please, Pavel, tell me it's not on allcall."

"Worse," Chekov said grimly, and then the comm whistled. They looked at each other for one terrified moment, and Sulu decided to spare him the pain. He did outrank him, after all.

He hoped his voice sounded steady as he thumbed the answer button. "Bridge. Sulu here."

"Mr. Sulu," came Spock's voice, with only a trace of un-Vulcan annoyance, but just enough to let him know. He'd heard the whole thing. "I believe I left Ensign Chekov in command."

Chekov visibly swallowed. "You did, sir," he put in.

"Is all well?"

They stared guiltily at each other. "Fine, sir," they said, almost as one.

A long pause. "In the future, you may wish to have the main computer disable command functions on the captain's chair."

"Understood," Sulu said, and switched the comm off as Chekov leaned in to kiss him.


End file.
